But it is sometimes impressive to see how great they are at ruining a fun time.

Take the Easter Egg hunt we went to today.

We thought a community Easter Egg Hunt sounded like a fun time, and since entry donations support a local woman’s shelter, we also thought it sounded like a good cause.

The place was packed. Swarming. We were a little surprised. PH had to drop us off and park a klick up the road.

I got Owl registered and we found our way to the section for ages 3-4. I thought it was smart of them to divide it by age group so that big kids wouldn’t be snatching from little babies.

When we got there I discovered that “hunt” was a bit of a misnomer. The playground area had been roped off and little bags of chocolate eggs were strewn willy nilly over every horizontal surface within the small boundaries. I realized it would be less of a hunt and more of a grab-what-you-can. Think of the Cornucopia Blood Bath in The Hunger Games.

I positioned Owl close to the ropes, handed him his basket, and quietly advised him that if he was having trouble getting any candy, he should head up the playground equipment because the kids would probably scramble for the stuff on the ground first.

They started the count down. 10… 9… 8…

When the count go down to “go!” something strange happened.

I had been expecting all the kids to rush in and mob the playground.

Instead, the adults standing around the edge all grabbed their kids’ hands and shuffled in, creating a solid wall that Owl couldn’t get past, and sweeping up all the candy like Roombas so there was nothing left for the kids behind them.

I directed Owl to dodge between a pair of adults and try to get in front so he could actually, you know, hunt for Easter eggs.

He disappeared beyond the wall of adult bodies.

The adults had zombie-shuffled across the entire field, and it was packed with adult and small child bodies. The playground equipment was in complete gridlock, with children wedged into every available space and practically overflowing around the edges. None of them were my son. None of the kids around the base of the equipment were mine. Nor could I see him around the edges of the play area.

Now, I don’t usually worry too much if I lose sight of Owl. I may suffer from anxiety, but I also trust my kid and for the most part I trust other people. Owl knows he’s not supposed to go out of my sight and he isn’t the type to completely disappear. He doesn’t leave the general play area without permission. So when I lose sight of him it’s usually because he’s behind something or under something and simply out of my sight line.

But in this densely packed environment, with adults and kids swarming everywhere, I could see how easy it would be for a child to get snatched.

A friend took Owl so we could go to a movie this weekend, so I dragged PH to Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Not because I thought it would be good but because I figured it would at least interest him.

It definitely INTERESTED him.

It also may have shrivelled his soul.

I’m not an original Star Trek fan. As much as I love George Takei, my knowledge of Star Trek starts with Captain Picard.

But PH is a genuine Trekkie, he even owns a detailed manual to the Enterprise, which he consults occasionally, so I was surprised that he was so accepting of the 2009 reboot. He was okay with the ending – he felt it left room for the director to make new story lines instead of simply rehashing old stuff.

So I figured this movie would be about the same.

Yeah, about that…

PH’s brain nearly exploded about two minutes into the movie, and it just went downhill from there. Even I, as a non-Trekkie, was offended.

If you are a Star Trek fan, you probably shouldn’t see this movie.

The funny thing is, when we mention it to people, including people who claim to be fans of the original series, they have all said “What? It was good…” Then PH starts pointing things out, and they go “Oh, well, yeah… yeah… you’re right… that didn’t make sense…”

So allow me to rephrase.

If you kind of liked Star Trek and you like movies that are shiny (like me), you should see this movie.

It is VERY shiny.

If you are a Star Trek fan and consider yourself a PURIST, which I think all true Trekkies DO, you should NOT see this movie.

Nor should you see it if you have an interest in, oh, SCIENCE.

I’ll start with non-spoilers, so don’t be afraid. I’ll warn you before I give away anything remotely important.

So, my friend and I are trying to drum up clients for our dog training business.

I decided that it was time to get some Google Adwords.

I made this choice for three reasons:

1. Facebook ads had gotten us “likes” but no new clients

2. We are still abysmally low in Google search listings

3. I had one of those $100 free Adwords coupon cards.

So I went to the website that I was given on the card, but found that I couldn’t proceed.

It asked me for my personal information, which I gave.

Then nothing happened.

There was no continue button. I tried pressing enter. Nothing worked.

WTF.

I thought maybe the site was down, so I waited a couple of hours and tried again.

Nope. Can’t proceed. Other links on the page sent me on to Adwords how-to pages and such, but I couldn’t actually go forward with my coupon redemtion/set up. I wondered if maybe it was a problem with my browser, and then I remembered that I use Google Chrome.

Obviously, since this was Google’s own browser, the form should work fine.

Fail.

But it’s okay – they provided a phone number for me to call, saying they would be happy to set up my ad for me, free of charge.

Fine. I hate interacting with humans, but whatever.

It rang twice and then I got disconnected.

It seems like such a scam – send people to a special offer site, have the special offer part not work, and then wait for people to sign up the regular way.

So I made a tweet about it.

Wow. #Google@Adwords is bogus. Tried to redeem a "$100 trial offer" and neither the website nor the phone number provided actually work!

I thought it might prompt Google into responding/fixing the problem, but I got zero response.

PH teased me that I clearly couldn’t use the internet, and assured me that he would figure it out when he had some time.

A couple of days later he sent me a text at work. He had figured out the problem:

The Google Ads offer site only worked on Internet Explorer.

That’s right – Google’s site wasn’t working on GOOGLE CHROME. I had to switch to Internet Explorer to frigging proceed with the form.

FAIL.

So then I go and jump through all the hoops to get signed up and redeem my dang coupon. I logged in with the same email address that I use for my business’s Google+/Google Places page, for obvious reasons. I also clicked the option they gave me to keep all my Google stuff together, rather than trying to separate adwords from the rest of my stuff. After all, I was using my professional email address.

Then it asked me if I wanted to associate my ad with a Google+ page.

You’d think they wouldn’t even make it an option. Google has been shoving Google+ down everyone’s throats to minimal success. You’d think they would INSIST on any business trying to use Google Ads having a Google+ business page.

But anyway, I checked that yes, I did want to include a link to our page. It asked me for a link to the page.

You’d think that since I was logged in with the owner’s email for that page that it would just go “Oh, hey, this is the business page associated with this business address!” and fill it in automatically.

BUT NO.

So whatever.

I find my Google + business page and insert the link into the entry box.

Invalid link.

What? This is the same link that I shared on my business facebook page and it works fine. It’s the same link ON OUR WEBSITE.

There is no additional information telling me how to acquire the correct link or what it should look like. No help boxes.

Fine, Google, I WON’T link to the Google+ page. I’ll just link direct to my own website.

HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES?

Bringing up the Google+ page, which I had almost forgotten about since it doesn’t come up in searches easily, even if you search for our business name (you find our website, but not the Google+ page) reminded me that I had meant to strike our address from the visible listing.

My friend had told me that one of our clients showed up at my door thinking she could walk in and talk to us, and then realized it was a private residence.

So once I was done setting up the damn adwords sans Google+ address, I went back to the Google+ page and edited the listing by checking the box to NOT include my address in the listing.

I refreshed. Address still there.

I tried again.

STILL THERE.

Again!

OH HAI.

Eff this. I’ll figure it out later.

But wait a minute.

Why is it offering me a link telling me that there are no Google Ads set up for this page?

Oh, well, after all, I couldn’t give the direct link. Maybe it’ll work better in CHROME this time (crazy idea, I know). So I click the link to take me to Adwords.

It tells me I have no ads or campaigns set up.

That’s strange, since I have an account sitting open in Explorer with my campaign and everything still there.

I’m signed in to professional google email in both browsers.

As far as I can tell, while it may allow me to log in to adwords using this email, Google doesn’t seem to have actually associated my Adwords account with my existing stuff, DESPITE MY CHECKING THE OPTION TO DO JUST THAT.

We have leftover Indian food, but are out of rice. I go into the kitchen to make some more.

Five minutes later, I come back out, looking defeated.

Me: “I screwed up. I can’t even make rice without screwing up.”

Perfect Husband: “…How do you screw up rice?”

Me: “I measured the rice into the cooker, but the container wasn’t in there, so I just poured rice right onto the element. I tried to dump it out, but it seems to have gotten down into the mechanism and I can’t shake it all out. I suck.”

Perfect Husband: “I’ll go look on the internet and see if what we should do. This probably happens all the time. What brand is it, Cuisinart?”

Five minutes later.

Perfect Husband goes to the kitchen, picks up the rice cooker and starts turning it around and shaking it. Grains of rice tumble out and get licked up by the dog. From the sound of it, there are a lot more grains of rice in there that aren’t coming out. The rice cooker sounds like a rain stick.

Me: “Did the internet tell you what to do?”

Perfect Husband: “…No. Apparently this has never happened in the history of ever.”

So, remember how I had that great Nurse Practitioner? Well, the same time I got pregnant, she left the clinic I was attending and went to work at an AIDS clinic. She sent my files to an OB, and to the shrink at the Reproductive Mental Health Centre, to make sure I would get proper care. Only the shrink says she isn’t responsible for my prescription/dosage on Wellbutrin – she said a GP should be following that. The OB said the same thing. So I needed a GP.

Took me forever to find one, and she’s this timid little newbie East Indian/South African lady who has the enthusiasm of the young but the lack of confidence that comes with being completely inexperienced. I’ve seen her a couple times and she fails pretty hard at monitoring my depression. For one thing, the first time I saw her she handed me the Hamilton scale with the idea that I should fill it out myself.

To help her get a better baseline for my depression, I promised to get her my files.

This has been an odyssey of complete ridiculousness. First of all, getting my files away from the clinic where I saw my NP was like trying to wrest federal secrets from CSIS. I called twice and no one knew how I could do such an unconventional thing as that. I went down there and got sent to this bureaucratic library o’ files where I had to sign a bunch of paperwork to “release” my information to my GP. But they had difficulty with WHAT files they were supposed to send.

“All of them,” I said.

“Okay, so, like, we’ll send your test results and stuff.”

“No, I want ALL the files sent, because my GP wants to get my depression history so she can know how to monitor me better.”

“Okay, so we’ll just send the files that relate to your depression then.”

“That’s ALL the files.”

“Okay, now, from what dates?”

*headdesk*

After that fiasco, I went to the Reproductive Mental Health Centre, where I see a counsellor ever week. I asked if they could have my assessment from the shrink sent to my GP. They said sure, all my doctor had to do was call and ask for them. I gave them the name of my GP, so they would know who was calling.

“I don’t need to sign anything?”

“Nope, just have them call and leave a fax number.”

So I go to the GP’s office, and give them the number for the shrink, and sign a form THERE saying I authorize them to collect this information. It is clearly marked with the clinic’s letterhead, and they fax it immediately to Reproductive Mental Health with a request for my files.

The next time I went in to see the counsellor, the lady at the counter was like “Hey, what’s Dr. Walker’s fax number?”

“Who?”

“I’m supposed to send files to a Dr. Walker…”

“I don’t have a doctor of that name. My doctor’s name is *entirely different East Indian name that also ends in r*.”

“Oh, okay, maybe that’s it. Do you have her number?”

“No, not on me.”

“Okay, we’ll try and look it up, and if we have any problems we’ll call you.”

So I got a call today.

Lady: “Hi, I was wondering if you could give me the number for Dr. Walker? They asked us to send your files.”

Me: “I don’t have a Dr. Walker. My doctor’s name is *entirely different East Indian name that also ends in r*.

Lady: “Oh, okay, maybe that’s it. Do you have her number?”

Me: “I can look it up on the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website.”

Lady: “Are you near a computer?”

Me: “Sure…” I start typing in her name at the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website.

Lady: “What kind of doctor is she? Is she your obstetrician?”

Me: “No, she’s my GP.”

Lady: “Oh, okay, and you’re Googling her number?”

Me: “I’m looking it up on the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website. They list all the doctors.”

Lady: “Carol? I’m getting another call. Can you call me back when you finish Googling her number? Thanks.” *click*